


Whiskey (and bile and intertwined hands)

by Idjit_01



Series: Multifandom febuwhump bc January sucked [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Day 26, Destiel is endgame, Eating Disorders, F/M, FebuWhump2021, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Vomiting, Whump, but - Freeform, obvs, surprisingly more fluff than expected, there's an explicit kiss between the OFC and Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idjit_01/pseuds/Idjit_01
Summary: Prompt #day 26: recoveryAfter a hunt Dean and Sam go to a bar to celebrate. When Sam finally leaves (thanks to Dean's shenanigans), Dean decides to indulge himself. Little does he know an angel in a trenchcoat is waiting for him when he finally lets himself fall.OR Sam worries, Dean suffers and Cas shares a bed with Dean.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Multifandom febuwhump bc January sucked [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140680
Kudos: 14
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Whiskey (and bile and intertwined hands)

Dean had been flirting with some chick for a good twenty minutes before he knew he had to notch it up or Sam wouldn't leave.

They had just finished hunting a Banshee somewhere in California, but decided to stay the night as the sun was already setting.

They had decided to go to the bar to celebrate, but Sam had barely touched his drink as he looked at Dean amusedly. 

Dean, in turn, had drunk more than he could soberly remember and was just waiting for Sam to leave so he could drop his facade and order every item on the menu of the diner across the street.

He had had this itch under his skin for grease and salt and sugar and alcohol for hours, but since the last time he couldn't assist Sam in a hunt 'cause all the impromptu binging and consequently heaving had rendered him useless, he was _"in recovery"_ and, therefore, couldn't satisfy his needs with Sam present.

Which also probably was why Sam kept observing him silently after he had started to heavily lay it on the dark-skinned beauty. 

If he had just flirted with her, he's have probably scoffed, and left wearing one of his bitch faces with a warning that their motel room wass off limits this time.

But when Dean had ordered himself another double to match the girl's tastes, Sam had adopted an amused expression to cover the worry growing in him.

So, Dean could only fathom, the best way to get Sam off his back was to disgust him with his older brother's sexual prowess.

Reluctantly —and don't understand him wrong, Dean would have gladly done her any day _except_ that day, when the urge for taste and fullness and dizziness and _cleansing_ was so high he could barely contain himself— Dean leaned over and captured her soft lips between his.

With a sharp nip on his bottom lip he opened his mouth in a groan and pushed his tongue into her moist mouth. When he heard movement at his side, Dean sighed and broke the kiss.

The woman trailed her nails over his thigh suggestively and giggled breathlessly. "You wanna get out of here?" She asked seductively.

Dean looked subtly at his left to make sure Sam was gone and bit his lip in a sorrowful manner. "Ah," he replied, thinking so quickly it gave him a headache, "I'm so sorry, but I just remembered my friend had asked me to help him out and watch his kid while he took his wife out and, oh, look at the time, I'm so late already."

She frowned disbelievingly. "Okay. Can I have your number then?"

"Sure," he said with a dazzling smile. Knowing he wouldn't return to town anytime soon, Dean gave her a fake number and made his way out.

Buzzing with nervousness and excitement ~~and ignoring the guilt~~ , Dean crossed the street and got into the diner as quickly as he could. 

After ordering half the menu to go Dean resorted to tapping on the counter restlessly in an attempt to make the time pass quicker.

As the minutes passed by, he doubted whether he really should be doing that and betray his promise to Sam of putting a stop to his most unhealthy habits so he could always be of help, but then the food arrived and the thought vanished as if it had never existed.

The bar door opened hastily as he stepped past the diner front. He turned towards the sound, and, when he saw the person he had been shamelessly making out with earlier, he hid in the alley besides the diner.

Looking out for the moment the girl would leave he felt himself grow more and more desperate.

Suddenly, another one left the bar as well, and they started blabbering to each other in front of it as if they knew Dean was hiding and were waiting to draw him out.

Almost unconsciously Dean dropped his hand into the bag and started taking out pie and cheesecake and fries and chunks of burgers and shoving it into his mouth as if he couldn't feel the uncomfortable feeling of his stomach bloating and his jaw aching from all the chewing. 

When the bag was empty he couldn't honestly tell what he had eaten at all.

His stomach churned as he waited and, when the girls finally left, he did his best to not throw up as he run to the motel to get to a room he'd have to pay for all over again.

When he got to the motel's clerk, he shifted on his feet as if he had to pee and smiled pleadingly. As it turns out, he didn't need to.

"Ah, you're the fella that came with the big guy earlier. He said to tell you he had gotten another room, so yours is, well, all yours." The guy looked behind him mischievously and looked back at him. "Weren't you supposed to be with some lady?"

Dean smiled coyly and winked. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He hoped the message that she was waiting for him got past the clerk, but if not, he hadn't time to talk about it because he really needed to use to bathroom.

He ran to his room and after a few unsuccessful attempts because of how his hand was trembling, he stuck the key into the keyhole and slammed it open.

Barely making sure the door closed behind him Dean ran to the bathroom and heaved into the ceramic bowl without the need of the use of any supplements to rid himself of his stomach's insides.

By the time he was only dry heaving, Dean was so tired he had to rest his head on the vomit-spilled bowl to catch his breath. His knees hurt and were probably red and raw because of how much time they had been in the same position.

When he finally catched his breath, he stood up and washed his hands and face to pretend nothing had happened.

He still felt like something was missing, somehow, like the itch wasn't completely satisfied, and thanked Sammy in his mind for leaving him their room as he remembered the old whiskey bottle he had tucked in his bag the last time he could snuck one out of their stash.

With renewed energy Dean washed his hands a final time and walked out of the bathroom without looking up.

Dean didn't get very far before his eyes wandered towards his bed, where his bag supposedly rested, and momentarily freezed when a trenchcoat-covered angel stared back at him instead.

"Dean..." Castiel said pitifully. 

Dean chuckled dryly. "What, no hello this time? We past those formalities already?"

"Hello, Dean," Cas corrected, with a long suffering sigh. He smiled fondly and Cas smiled back.

"Heya, Cas." 

Castiel stood up and got up close to Dean.

"Ah, Cas, what are you doing?"

"I'm checking your temperature."

Dean took a step back and cleared his throat. "No need, Cas. I'm as healthy as a baby pig."

Castiel tilted his head and spoke softly. "No, you're not."

Dean sighed tiredly and dropped onto the bed. "I know."

The bed dipped beside him again and Dean closed his eyes to avoid looking at Cas's all-too-innocent blue orbs.

He listened to Cas's breathing as he turned and waited for him to speak, but nothing happened.

When he was starting to doze off he felt Cas's hand squeeze his and he gulped, eyes opening immediately as he suddenly felt more awake then even when the adrenaline run through him during a hunt.

Dean opened his mouth to inquire on Cas's actions when Cas squeezed his hand again.

"Sam told me you were in recovery." Cas finally said and Dean obnoxiously scoffed. 

"Sam says a lot of things." Dean hissed angrily.

"So, are you not- ?" 

"I think it's none of your business, Cas." 

Castiel's hand left his. Dean had to stop himself of chasing after it, the warmth and comfort of it replaced by cold and uncertainty. He curled his hand in a fist instead and sat up.

He rescued his bad from under the bed and threw clothes and weapons out in the haste of the search for his bottle.

When he finally found it he took a long swig and looked up in surprise when a hand covered his.

" _Cas?"_

Castiel just took the bottle and, before Dean could demand him to give it back, took a long swig himself.

Slowly, silently, they shared the rest of the bottle.

When Dean gripped the bottle for the last time and no liquid made his way out he squinted his eyes and yawned.

He saw Cas blink confusedly and smiled.

Laying down, he patted the mattress at his right. "Y' can stay here t'night, yah?"

Cas smiled and laid on his side, unlike Dean, who was looking up to the ceiling.

"I'll watch over you."

Dean shook his head vehemently and took Cas's hand, placing it on his heart. "No. You stay here tonight. Sleep."

"I don't need to sleep, Dean."

"Pwetty please? For me?"

"Fine," Cas answered amusedly. "For you."

Dean closed his eyes and tried to sleep. With the raw hurt in his throat and the uncomfortable feeling of stretched skin and slushing bile in his stomach, Dean was finding it impossible.

"Cas?" He mumbled eventually.

"Yeah?" Cas answered in a sleepy voice.

"Am sorry. Sam thinks I'm recovering, but I'm really not. I just can't tell him..."

"What, Dean? Why aren't you in recovery?"

"I can't!" Dean snapped. Then he sighed. "Nah, that's a lie. I just really really really don't want to."

Cas squeezed the fabric on Dean's chest, and _why was Cas's hand still there?_ and hummed.

"Sam must be feeling very helpless then." Then he added quietly, "I do too."

"Yeah, well, get in line," Dean retorted and turned to his side, facing away from Cas and tearing Cas's hand away from his shirt in the process.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and forcibly controlled his breath to make it seem as if he was falling asleep. It wouldn't work on the angel, but Cas knew enough about Dean to know the conversation was over with him.

The conversation was over and they really needed to sleep because they were driving the next day, so they closed their eyes and pretended they didn't know the other one was awake as they counted the minutes of this awkward laying together in bed.

**Author's Note:**

> SO, I hesitated between posting this here or leaving is as a chapter of my work in progress, Famished, https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985650 , but finally decided to leave it as a part of Febuwhump.
> 
> Don't really know if it count as Whump because of the fluff I snuck into it, but I hope it does anyways.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed it and, if you want to give love or constructive criticize, go nuts.


End file.
